


Don't You Feel Pretty

by buckythecautionarywhale



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Asthma Attacks, Brief Mention of other Captain America Characters, Bucky is a mess, Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstanding, Multi, Panic Attacks, Pre-War Bucky, Sam is the best bro, Sarah doesn't take shit from anyone, She's also everyone's mom, Steve has a beard, Steve is a Texas Cowboy, Steve is still very much in the closet, Swearing, post-serum Steve, set in 2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckythecautionarywhale/pseuds/buckythecautionarywhale
Summary: Steve's family owns a ranch on the prairies of East Texas, and as it turns out, when you don't pay your bills for months, the bank closes in on you. Steve and his family have to figure out a way to save the ranch that has been their life-source for the past century. Luckily, angels don't always wear halos and flowing white robes, sometimes they wear sequined g-strings.





	1. it feels like home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is my first fic, and I'm pretty excited about it, and I hope you all are too. The first chapter is a lot of background information, and getting to know the Rogers' Family, so bear with me. It's going to get good really soon, I promise!
> 
> More tags will be added with each chapter!
> 
> Extra special thanks to [my beta](http://garden-of-imagines.tumblr.com/) for helping me make things pretty! Comments/kudos are always appreciated, and I can't wait to get started on the next chapter!  
> I would also like to thank my pal, [Win.](wintersoldiertho.tumblr.com) She and I came up with this plot together as a roleplay, and I wanted to turn it into a fic for her. The Bucky character is based on a character she developed, and I would like to thank her for lending him to me!  
>  
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr!](http://captainamericatho.tumblr.com)

_Sarah was always the one who loved horses. From the moment she was big enough to stand on her own two feet, she was tottering toward Eureka Creek’s big red barn to watch with wonder-filled eyes as the ranch hands filled buckets with sweet feed for the stomping, snorting beasts. Her mother spent more time calling her back to the big plantation style farm house than Sarah spent listening. If it were up to her mother, she would have been learning how to be a “prim” and “proper” young lady instead of playing under the hard hooves of the brood mares. Her father on the other hand, breathed life into her passion for the ranch. At every chance he was given, Sarah’s father was teaching her everything he knew about Eureka Creek; from the growth rate of the open fields, and the signs that a mare was about to drop her foal, to the best ways to keep coyotes and wild dogs from the herd. Sarah absorbed it all with enthusiasm, and a bright white smile._

_The older she got, the more interested in boys she got. Where most Friday nights were previously spent watching old westerns with her father, they were now spent at the county park watching the cattle running, and barrel racing. In particular, she spent Friday nights watching Joseph Rogers own the arena on a big sorrel mare, and God knows Sarah didn’t go unnoticed. Once they caught on to one another, Joseph and Sarah were inseparable, and by her nineteenth birthday, they were married._

_Sarah’s love for her home made it difficult at first – Joseph wanted to move away to start farming in Kansas, while Sarah knew she could never leave her home. Leaving Eureka Creek would be like leaving a piece of herself behind, and she couldn’t live with that. So, her parents agreed to help the new couple renovate a cabin that was set back in a valley just a mile away from the plantation house. What was once a sad excuse for a house was soon turned into shining fixtures, and a warm, homey atmosphere. Joseph was granted the surrounding area to do with as he wished, and Sarah was free to continue learning the family business._

_It wasn’t long after their home was complete that the young couple was expecting. In nine months, a beautiful little boy was born – Steven Grant Rogers, named after both her and Joseph’s fathers. Sarah was so taken with her son that there wasn’t a thing in the world that could make her think he was anything less than perfect – not even the doctors bearing bad news. The child was weak, and he wasn’t expected to live long, they said._

_Against all odds, the child lived, and he lived as hard as his frail body would allow him. Through nature or nurture, he inherited his mother’s love for horses. He spent his childhood tailing his mother around the ranch, and for as much time as he spent on the back of the little palomino pony he was given for his birthday, it was a wonder he didn’t end up bowlegged. The older he got, the more involved he got in the ranch. In what seemed like a blink of an eye for Sarah, Steve was graduating high school, and working full time cleaning stalls, and riding the fence line._

_Old age gripped at Sarah’s mother’s heart with a ruthless hold that left her father a widower with a failing mind. Her mother was the only one who had kept him from falling apart, and all of a sudden she was gone. Not wanting her father to be ripped from his home, her and Joseph moved from their secluded cabin to live in the plantation house to aid in the care of Sarah’s father. Steve stayed behind, and made the cabin his own – an old flop-eared hound lounging on the porch and all._

-

Mornings held a beautiful kind of peace. The sun was bright and new, peeking out over the hilltops with promises of warming chilled bones. The tall grass was damp with dew, and it sparkled like glitter in the morning light. The family of rabbits that made their home under the wood pile to the left of the old cabin poked their velvety noses out, always keeping an eye out for the old hound that sprawled out on the porch in a patch of cool light, waiting for Steve to emerge. The muted sounds of clattering cutlery, and creaking floor boards mixed with the waking birds as Steve got ready to head off.

Steve greeted the days as if they were the best that there ever could be. This particular day was no different. With a bright smile, and a hop in his step, he skipped down the porch stairs, and made his way down the red dirt walk-way to the old blue Chevy truck that sat in his drive. With a sharp click ringing out in the otherwise silent valley, Steve hopped in the truck and turned the key over. The engine struggled for a moment before turning over, and roaring to life.

“There we go, baby,” he crooned softly to the truck before pulling away and heading away from the rising sun. 

When he reached the big red barn, he killed the engine, and threw the gear shift into _park,_ and stepped out. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve caught sight of a flash of dark hair. _Rebecca,_ he thought, smiling wide. Before he was given a chance to turn and greet her properly he found himself being pulled into a hug, punctuated by a swift peck on his lips.

“Good morning to you too,” he said with a raised brow.

“Sorry, your mom’s standing in the window, and I just got a lecture about giving her grandkids.” Rebecca rolled her eyes and snaked an arm around Steve’s waist. 

With pursed lips, he gave a short nod and let his arm drape over her narrow shoulders. 

“If we keep this up any longer, she’d going to propose to you for me.” Steve grinned and lead her toward the small barn door.

“You’re gonna have to tell them sooner or later, you know.”

“It’s none of their business, Bex,” Steve paused and unwrapped his arm from her shoulders and moved to push open the big bay doors of the East end of the barn, letting the light stream in. “Ma’s a kind soul, and I know her and Dad love me, but I don’t want them lookin’ at me like I’m some kind of freak, or something. You know what the south can do to people,” he said, in a tone that signaled that the conversation was over. With a shrug, Steve let his eyes fall to the soft dirt under his boots. 

Rebecca pursed her lips and nodded before turning quickly on her heal to start fetching water pails to be washed and refilled. She knew that it truly was none of her business what Steve did and didn’t tell his parents, but there was a part of her that couldn’t let go of the idea that if he would just tell them that they weren’t really a couple – and the whole thing had been a ruse to cover up the fact that he was gay – everyone would be much happier. She had known Sarah and Joseph since she was sixteen, and she had never even caught a whiff of homophobia on the pair of them. She couldn’t even fathom where Steve had gotten that idea from. Then again, for all she really knew things were different behind closed doors.

While Rebecca started on the water pails, Steve's bright mood was now dulled. He went to the old freezer where the feed was kept, and started filling a large bucket with the sweet smelling pellets. As soon as the rusty hinges squeaked, every animal in the building seemed to perk up. Each stall now had a long face poking out over the door, and excited nickering filled the soft morning air. Even the scraggly looking barn cat forgot his inhibitions, and started yowling from a few feet away – a safe distance in his opinion – begging for the feeding process to hurry up. 

“Alright, alright, I know, I’m bein’ slow. Don’t get your fur in a wad,” Steve said with a chuckle. Abandoning the pellets, he grabbed the bag of cat food from beside the freezer and shook some of the fish shaped pellets into the metal pan that sat at his feet. “There, ya big whiner.” As soon as he stepped away from the pan, and started filling the trough of the nearest horse, the cat was darting over to grab a mouthful of the dry food. 

Almost as quick as it came, the sour mood was tamped down, but not forgotten. He had known since he was thirteen years old that he was _different._ He didn’t know exactly what to call how he felt at first, but something told him that it wasn’t something you talked about. He saw it in movies, in the way his peers interacted, and how people sneered at the news when someone like him dared to step up and speak out. The older he got, the surer he was about the feelings he had; they weren’t something he should be bragging about. It seemed that as soon as he came to terms with _it_ all he could see was _it_ in the world around him. But for some reason, he only saw the negative sides, and that made his secret even harder to tell.

Which is how he managed to make it to age thirty without ever saying it out loud to anyone except Rebecca – and even that hadn’t been on purpose. After she came to work on the ranch when she was sixteen, she practically became Steve’s shadow. Everywhere he went, she was right there behind him. He hadn’t thought too much about it – she was just looking for a friend, and he was more than willing to give her that. Though, friendship wasn’t all that had been on her mind. When his twenty-fourth birthday rolled around, Rebecca had gifted him a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, and between the two of them they managed to make half of it disappear. With alcohol comes loose lips. Rebecca admitted that she had feelings for him, and he had immediately blurted out, “I’m so gay,” before bursting into a fit of giggles. After that night, they had only really talked about it once, and that was when Rebecca had offered to be his beard – which sounded like a great idea in theory, but then Steve realized that meant he’d actually have to kiss his best friend in front of people. And that, to him, was as bad as having to kiss his blood sister. 

The rest of the morning passed without any more mishaps, and before the pair knew it, it was noon – time for the mail to run. Steve dusted off his hands, and his clothes with the pressure hose from the garage, and headed off for the plantation house while Rebecca made her way down the gravel driveway to the mailbox that sat waiting at the end. When he entered the house, he was greeted with the smell of apple pie, and vanilla. His mother, dressed in a floral sun dress, coming up to press neatly painted lips to his cheek. 

“Hey Ma,” he said happily, leaning down so that he could kiss her cheek as well. “You make pie?”

“I did, and no, you can’t have any,” Sarah said with a warm chuckle as she wagged a knobby finger in his direction. “It has to cool first,” she turned on her heel to lead him back to the kitchen, “But, I did make some sandwiches for you and Rebecca.” 

Steve smiled, and reached out to rest his hands on her shoulders. “You’re the best, Ma.”

“I know, honey,” she said smugly. “Here, take these out to the porch. I’ll be out in a second.” Winking at her son, she handed off the plate stacked high with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and shooed him out of the kitchen.

As he settled into one of the rocking chairs that sat on the front porch, he stuffed nearly half a sandwich into his mouth, and sighed heavily out of his nose. _Noon might as well feel like nine o’clock at night when you’re up before the sun is,_ he thought, letting his eyes fall shut while he chewed. When Sarah finally made it out to take her seat to his right, Steve hummed appreciatively and reached out blindly for his mother’s hand. He was met with an empathetic _“Oh, honey,”_ as she took his hand in her own and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. 

It wasn’t until Steve heard the steady crunching of gravel under foot that he finally opened his eyes to see Rebecca walking towards the house with a hand full of white envelopes, and concern creasing her brow. Steve sat up in his chair, and reached out to put the half eaten sandwich back on the tray. 

“What’s the matter, Bex?” he asked. She shook her head wordlessly, as she came up the stairs to hand the mail to his mother. On top of the stack was a crisp white envelope with the words, _“Past Due”_ stamped in bold red ink across the front. Steve’s eyebrows pulled together as he dragged his eyes from the envelope to stare at his mother’s stoic expression. “Ma?”

Sarah stared down at the envelope as if she had been expecting it for a long time, yet it still felt as if a knife had been plunged into her chest. The mix of acceptance and pain that shrouded her face was enough to fuel that panic that spread through Steve. “Ma?” he said, more forcefully this time. Sarah jumped, seemingly snapped out of her trance. Her typical sweet smile replaced whatever had been there before, and it was as if nothing had even happened. She tucked the envelope behind a catalog and stood up.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Just eat your lunch, we can talk about it later, okay?” At that, she was gone, and Rebecca was taking her seat. 

“It was from the bank, Steve,” she said solemnly. “It was just a past due notice… Whatever it is, there’s still time,” she added after a moment of blank staring from Steve.

Steve nodded silently, and leaned back in his chair. After what seemed like a lifetime of silence, Steve was able to muster up the strength for a weak “Yeah.”

“Hey, listen to me,” she said quickly, leaning over to take his hand in her own. “It’s gonna be okay, okay?” Nothing. “I-I know some people… We’ll figure this out.”


	2. soft hands and jagged earth

While Steve was growing up, Sarah was a mother figure to all of his friends. His best friend, Sam Wilson, lived just down the road from the ranch. His parents never had much money, and it showed. Sam was the cliché poor kid who wore worn out tennis shoes and barely got enough to eat at school. In fact, it was because of that that he and Steve came together. Steve made it his job to be friends with everyone who would have him, and; despite his frail bones, and weak lungs he would protect anyone who looked like they needed it. Sam fell right smack in the middle of both of those categories. 

From the first time that he caught the Rumlow boy picking on Sam on the playground, Steve, and all his 46-pound, gap-toothed glory, was right there to face him with Sam. Naturally, eight-year-old Sam had been insistent on the fact that he “didn’t need the help of no scrawny runt,” but considering he was saying that as both of them nursed bloodied noses, Steve didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, he invited him over for dinner. From that night on, not only were Sam and Steve inseparable, but Sarah had gained another egg for her nest. As often as Sam was allowed, Sarah invited him over for dinner, and made sure he went home with plenty of left-overs for his older sister as well as his parents. For that, the Wilson’s always made sure that Sarah and Joseph knew they were grateful. 

It was no surprise that as Steve grew older, he gathered more friends for his mother to tuck under her wing. Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Maria Hill, and even the kid that transferred in during senior year – Bruce Banner – managed to gain a second mother in Sarah. She made sure to make cupcakes for their birthdays, and each of them had a stocking hung over the mantel in the den during Christmas time. When all of Steve’s friends, except for Sam, had moved off to go to college it was like losing a child of her own. She made sure to send cards, and care packages, and, in return, whenever any of them were in town, they made sure to come by and thank her in person. 

But Sam and Steve were the only ones who stuck around the ranch. Steve was there learning to manage the property, and Sam took to keeping the grounds. Like Steve, Sam had his own home on the property. Off the side of the main house there was a row of little cabins that the Rogers family rented out to rich families coming to get “the real cowboy experience” – as it was advertised on the tourist sites. In the little row of cabins, Sam had claimed the one furthest away, and made it his own. There, he lived with his little dog rent free so long as he kept up with his duties – which he did. 

Sarah’s maternal instincts didn’t stop with Steve’s friends either. Everyone who worked on the ranch, whether they were sixteen, or sixty, knew Sarah as “Momma Rogers.” And it was well known that every Wednesday night was potluck dinner at Momma Rogers’ house. Those who came either brought food, helped with whatever Sarah had going on in the kitchen, or they were on clean-up duty. Everyone brought stories, and good spirits to share, and, for the most part, Wednesdays were good days for everyone. 

This particular Wednesday was no different to anyone else, but to Steve it was Hell on Earth. The only thing on his mind all day was the notice his mother had refused to talk with him about. She had tucked the letter away in some secret place the night before, and forbid him from speaking of it with anyone, not even his father. That had shaken him to his core. In all his years, he hadn’t known his mother to keep secrets from his father, especially about something so big. Now she was standing in the sitting room, surrounded by their guests, with a smile on her face as if there was nothing wrong. The queasy feeling that had been riding in the pit of his stomach all day threatened to rise up and expose itself.

With a disgusted scoff, Steve turned away from his mother and headed for the kitchen to fill his plastic Solo cup with hooch his grandfather had pulled together for the potluck. Lifting it to his lips, he sucked back the fruity drink that was more parts vodka than anything else, and filled it again before he made his way to the back door. His hand came out to push the screen door open with a little more force than necessary. Feeling satisfied with the _crack_ of the door as it swung open and hit the wall behind it, Steve stepped out into the cooling night air.

“Hey,” an unexpected voice said to his right. Immediately, Steve jerked to the left, nearly spilling the drink in his hand as he took in the person the voice had come from

“Jesus, Sam! You scared the hell outta me!” He said in a startled voice, clenching his chest with his free hand. After the initial shock wore off, Steve shuffled over to plop down on the wicker loveseat next to Sam, who sat with a smirk on his face.

“You scare too easy, Rogers,” Sam said, reaching out to pluck the cup Steve had right out of his hand, taking a swig as if it were his own. 

“Yeah, sure, Sammy, you can have some,” Steve deadpanned, holding his hand back out for the cup. 

Ignoring Steve’s snark, Sam whooped before giving Steve a surprised look, “Wow, your grandpa makes some strong hooch… Who let him near the liquor cabinet anyway?” He asked with a puckered expressio. Steve just shrugged, and slouched down in his seat. “What’re you out here for?” He asked, nudging his knee with his own. “The party’s in there.”

“I guess I could ask you the same thing, huh?” 

“Yeah… You got me there. Just needed some air.” Sam smiled over at him, waiting for some kind of reaction from him. All he got was a halfhearted quirk of his lips. Having known Steve for a long time, it was easy for him to tell when something was wrong. It was unlike Steve to run away from a party, and it was even more unlike him to do it with a frown on his face. Giving him another nudge, Sam scooted over so he could bump his shoulder into Steve’s playfully. “What’s the matter, Steve?” He asked, reaching out for the cup again.

“Just thinkin’ s’all,” he answered, handing over the cup. 

“You keep doing that, and you’re gonna give yourself a headache,” he jabbed before taking a sip of the hooch.

“Ha ha,” he said dully. With an exasperated sigh, he tossed his head back to stare up at the porch ceiling. “I don’t know what I’m doin’ anymore.” 

“Join the club, pal. No one knows what they’re doing half the time.”

“That’s not… That’s not what I mean,” Steve rolled his head from side to side as his words trailed off. “I just… Ma’s never kept secrets before, and now she’s keepin’ one that could fuck us all over. It’s not just me that’s gonna suffer if… If things don’t go right. She needs to think about everyone, and I don’t know if she is.” Steve stopped for a moment to look around the back yard before he was back on it again. “What about you and Becca? And Renata? Dum Dum, Jim, Gabe, Chester, what about them? This place is home, and I need it,” a pause, “ _we_ need it,” he corrected. 

Beside him, Sam sat with his head down and his lips pursed as he listened to him. When Steve finally gave him a chance to speak, he looked over at him with a concerned expression. “Look, man, I don’t know what’s going on with you and your mom, or whatever, but it sounds serious. Why don’t you just go talk to her? I know your ma, and what you’re sayin’ doesn’t sound like her at all. You know she’s always thinking of everyone else before herself. That’s just the way she is.” Sam offered a smile, and reached out to pat Steve’s knee.

Instead of sighing, and patting his hand as Sam expected him to do, Steve jumped up with determination on his face, and started toward the door. “What?” He started in surprise, “Now? That’s – Steve! That’s not what I meant!” He called after him as he stormed back through the house. Sam tried to grab his arm to stop him, but a determined Steve was not one to be easily deterred. Sam followed him all the way back to the sitting room where he caught Sarah’s eye and tried to send her the ‘your son is crazy, watch out’ look. By some magic, she seemed to catch his message, and met Steve halfway. Sarah grabbed hold of his arm, and steered him down the long hallway. At the end, she stopped, and dropped her hand from his bicep. 

“Steve?” She asked, her thin eyebrows pulling up in confusion. 

“ _Ma,_ ” he snapped back, a little harsher than he meant to. Though, that didn’t stop him from continuing on in the same tone. “Are you gonna tell me what the hell that letter was about? Or you just gonna let me rot thinkin’ about it?”

The confusion on Sarah’s face quickly hardened as she listened to what her son had to say. “First of all,” she started, nostrils flaring, and a knobby finger coming up to point at him. “Don’t you take that tone with me. Second, I don’t care how old you are, don’t you be swearin’ at me.” Sarah lowered her finger and smoothed the cloth of her dress before she continued in a gentler voice, “I know you’re worried, honey. But I need you to trust me, okay? We’re-,” she paused and her painted lips pursed into a thin line. With a huff, she continued, “We’re behind on some payments, and the bank is threatening to take the ranch.”

Steve stared back at his mother with wide eyes, and a slack jaw. The mixture of anger, betrayal, and all around heartbreak that filled him was enough to leave him speechless. His jaw worked in an attempt to summon words, but it was to no avail. Bringing his hand up to cover his mouth, Steve let out a short scoff before turning on his heel to leave his mother alone in the hallway with tears in her eyes. He pushed his way through the house, trying desperately to get past all the people who were stopping him to ask for detailed recounts of this time or another. Steve shouldered past them with nothing more than a head shake, and a sickened look on his face. He could tell from the tightness in his jaw that if he opened his mouth, he was going to throw up. 

He was almost to the door when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. With wild eyes, he whirled around to the person, ready to snap, only to find it was Sam. Steve could see the concern in his eyes, and it only made the sickness in his gut worsen. Looking at Sam, it was guilt, more than anything, that made him sick. If the ranch went under Sam would lose everything he had worked to build, and if Steve didn’t stop it, it would be his fault. There was only one problem, he didn’t have any money that didn’t come from the ranch. He was paid just like the rest of the ranch hands, and if the ranch was broke, that sure as hell meant he was too. This was a situation he never thought he would have to deal with, and here it was like death hanging at his door. 

“Not now, Sam,” he growled, reaching up to push the hand from his shoulder before he tucked his tail between his legs, and retreated to the barn – his sanctuary. He didn’t bother turning to answer as Sam called after him. He had to get out of there before he was sick.

Striding through the dark with tears burning at his eyes, Steve managed to stumble over the gravel in the driveway. He fell to the ground without any protest, landing hard on his hands and knees. The chunks of rock bit into his palms, and through the thick denim of his jeans, leaving jagged little cuts everywhere they touched. Nothing more than a grunt left him as he pushed himself back up, and continued to the barn, making a bee-line for one stall in particular. 

A familiar face poked out over the stall door and gave an excited nicker, but Steve was too far gone to even be able to appreciate the bond he had with the horse. He instead sunk down in front of the door, and pulled his knees up to his chest. He tried to rest his head in his hands, but the immediate sting of the contact made him hiss and jerk his head back. Sitting in the dark with his hands in his lap, and his head rested against the old wood of the stall, Steve tried to take a deep breath. The tightness in his chest squeezed even tighter, restricting his breath to short, shallow pulls.  
_Shit, shit, shit,_ he thought while he lifted one shaking hand to press the back to his forehead. This couldn’t be happening right now. This was that last thing he needed. He just had to breathe. _Breathe, Steve. Just breathe… Easier said than done, huh?_ With the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, Steve could feel his face pinching as he tried to work through his breathing. The harder he tried to get it under control, the more difficult it got, and that’s when the panic set in. The dark edges of his vision began setting in like a wave of thick clouds over the sky, and any rational thought he had left was scrambled. He tried to put his legs underneath himself, but everything felt like it was stuck in quicksand. His arms couldn’t move the way he was asking them too, and his feet were clumsy, like a child’s. It seemed as if everything was against him, and he couldn’t even orientate himself enough to think which way the storage room was. Hell, he couldn’t even think of why he needed to be in the storage room right now. 

After what felt like a lifetime, but could have only been a matter of minutes, Steve was finally able to get to his feet. Though, the spinning, constricting feeling in his head prevented him from making it far. He managed to make it a few steps before he was back on the ground, one hand on his chest, the other bracing him on the soft dirt beneath him. 

“Jesus, Steve!” Called a voice from behind him, followed by frantic footsteps. The hands on his back felt familiar, but no names came to mind. All he knew was that he needed to be in the storage room.

“The- The storage room… Please,” he wheezed. The hands on his back were gone almost immediately, followed by a loud clattering and a handful of choice words. On their return, the person had a hand on his back and something cool was pressed to his lips. 

“C’mon, Steve. Work with me, will ya?” The person, definitely a woman, said determinedly. The hand on his back came up to grip his jaw, holding the cool piece to his lips firmly. “Alright, on the count of three, take a deep breath for me, okay?” They coaxed. Steve’s eyes squeezed shut, and he tried to focus on the instructions he was given as the countdown began. “One – two,” a quick pause, “Three.” As he was told, Steve took as deep a breath as he could manage, effectively breathing in the fog of what could only be his inhaler. 

“Okay, breathe for me,” she gently encouraged. The hand she had on his jaw went back to rub small circles on his back while he regained his ability to think straight. Steve took in a few jagged breaths before lifting his own hand to take the inhaler from the woman – who he now recognized as Rebecca. He took another puff before he settled back onto his butt.

“Thanks,” he said after taking a few more moments to catch his breath.

“Don’t thank me, dumbass,” she retorted bitterly. Though Steve could tell that it was mostly worry that had made her sour. “You can’t get yourself all torqued up and then run off all alone.” Rebecca reached out to give his shoulder a shove. The concern and frustration on her face was still clear as she grabbed an empty bucket and turned it over to make a seat for herself. Steve stayed silent while she readjusted herself, knowing better than to think she was done with him just yet, and he was right. “Well, are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Or you just gonna let me sit here with my imagination… Which is far worse, _by the way._ ”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. Although, it was far from humorous. “I guess we’re not bringin’ in enough money to keep the farm goin’… The bank is gonna take my home from me, and everyone’s gonna be screwed. Sam’s gonna lose his house, you and everyone else won’t have a job… They’ll probably sell off all the horses to God knows who… The ones that’ve been out to pasture most of their lives are probably gonna end up getting’ put down ‘cause no one wants a horse that isn’t broke, or hell, even friendly. I – I don’t know what to do, and Ma’s tryin’ to take all that on herself, and I know she won’t be able to handle it…” He trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders before bringing the inhaler up to his mouth for a final dose. Looking around himself, he found the cap, blew the dust out of it, and put it back on the mouthpiece. 

The silence hung between them for a few minutes as his words sunk in with Rebecca. The only sound was the soft skittering of barn mice and the shuffling of the horses down the row. On any other day, the gentle sounds of the barn would have been a comfort for Steve. They would have reminded him of when he was young – running through the barn with a plastic gun and his dad’s cowboy hat flopping around on his head while Sam, or one of his other friends, chased after him with a plastic bow and arrow and an equally ill-fitted hat on their head. It would have reminded him of his first real kiss with the Odinson boy who was in on vacation with his family from Europe. Maybe he would have been reminded of the beautiful dress his mother wore the day her and his father renewed their vows. No matter what he _would_ have thought about, all he could think of now was the fact that someone who didn’t know a damned thing about the memories shared here was going to come in and rip it away from him. 

“Maybe,” Rebecca started, breaking the silence that hung heavy between them. “Maybe I can – My mom’s always looking for a project. Maybe I can get her to look into investing in Eureka Creek.” He voice was soft as she made the suggestion. Even though it was genuine, Steve scoffed and shook his head. 

“What good is that gonna do? Your mom some kind of millionaire or something? Goin’ around to different charity cases playin’ pimp my farm, _yee-haw,_ ” he finished sarcastically. 

“Well as a matter of fact, yeah… My parents have a lot of money and my mom likes making things shine and adding them to her collection of shiny successful businesses,” she snapped back. “Mom owns two or three little restaurants down in Galveston, a chain of pet stores in San Antonio, and like… A bookstore or something somewhere. I don’t know I can’t keep up. But,” she sighed, “the point is, if I asked her… She might look into it. If she bought the place, everyone could stay. She might change a few things, but essentially it’d be the same.”

Steve stayed silent as he mulled over the option. On one hand, the property that had belonged to his family for that past century would belong to some lady who collected family businesses like lucky pennies. On the other hand, he would have what he wanted – his home. “Would,” he started before quickly faltering. “Uhm… Would she really do that?” he asked. The hopeful look that washed over him was almost pathetic, but he didn’t even care. It was a step towards salvation. 

Rebecca shrugged, clapping her hands down on her thighs. “I don’t know, but I can always ask her and see where it gets us.”

After a moment, Steve broke out in an infectious grin and was on his knees wrapping his arms around Rebecca before she could protest. “You’re the best, Bex.”

\---

**One Week Later**

Rebecca’s mother was supposed to be on the property today and Steve was a damned hot mess. As soon as he’d gotten to the main house, he started running back and forth like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get everything looking presentable. Which, with as many moving parts as the ranch had, was nearly impossible, but that didn’t stop Steve from trying at least. 

Since the second he stepped out of his truck, he was snapping at Sam to check this and check that. Dum Dum got hell for not having the barn horses fed and set out to graze on time. Poor Morita and Gabe got sent out to double check that none of the yearlings had broken away from the herd and gotten back into the back pasture. Everyone was instructed to be on their best behavior and Steve was on a warpath with anyone who dared to step out of line.

When the sound of tires on gravel sounded over the chaos that was Rogers and associates, Steve stopped what he was doing. Standing in the middle of the bay door of the barn, Steve took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “It’s okay, Steve. You got this. She’s gonna love you and nothing is going to go wrong. Just breathe,” he recited before opening his eyes to watch the big, red Ford F-250 pulling up to park in front of the house. Immediately, Steve’s lip curled. “Eck, _Ford people,_ ” he said, pausing before he chuckled to himself. 

When the driver’s door opened it revealed a well-aged red headed woman with a big straw cowboy hat atop her head and a shining pair of sunglasses on her face. In truth, Steve thought she looked a little ridiculous. It was always easy for him to spot people who had never worn a cowboy hat or a good pair of boots in their lives. There was just something about the way they held themselves that gave it all away and Ms. Barnes was no different. Though, Steve wasn’t about to insult the woman who could possible save him from being a homeless ranch hand that barely got his high school diploma. Instead, he put on his best smile and swaggered over to her the way all the tourists loved for him to do. 

“Howdy, ma’am,” he called, over to her. A part of him died every time he had to greet someone like he was straight out of a 1960’s western, but it was all part of the act. 

“Well hello there! You must be Steve,” she said with a big, professional grin on her face. She quickly closed the distance between the two of them and offered her hand for Steve to shake, which he accepted. “I’m Winifred Barnes, but you can call me Winnie,” she introduced herself with a firm shake of her hand before quickly retracting it to rest on her hips. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Winnie,” Steve drawled. “I’m Steve,” he confirmed, “and this is Eureka Creek.” Still smiling, he motioned to the area around them. “Would you like me to show you around, or… You must have had a long drive. Would you like to join my mother for tea?” he asked, folding his hands neatly behind his back. 

Winnie gave him a polite smile, “Please, honey, Winnie is just fine.” At that, she turned to look at the truck, as if she were expecting someone else to emerge. When she turned back to him Winnie pursed her lips. One finger came up to signal that she needed just a moment before she put both her fists on her hips. “James, are you getting out of the truck, or are you going to stay in there and pout the whole time?” she called out in a scolding tone that Steve knew all too well from his own mother. The fact made his smile soften into something more genuine. 

The exasperated groan that came from the truck, followed by a flurry of excited giggles quickly turned his smile into a look of confusion. With one brow raised, he watched as the door of the truck swung open at an alarming speed to reveal not only one, but _three_ more people. 

A tall, dark haired man with sunglasses and a face for the silver screen jumped down from the truck and threw his head back like a child before turning to wait for the rest of the party to emerge. Before Steve even had it in him to drag his eyes away from the man – James – Winnie was directing her attention back to him. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but my son and his friends were in from LA, so I brought them along.” With a warm smile, she added, “James has an eye for good investments.”

Tearing his eyes away from James, Steve nodded to Winnie. “Of course. There’s plenty of room for everyone!” he said with enthusiasm. Letting his attention wander not-so-subtly back to James, Steve took note of the two women with him and how he had an arm around both of them. A tiny voice in the back of his head pleaded with whatever God was listening that they were just friends. Though, he quickly stamped that thought down, cleared his throat, and put on another big grin. “Hi, welcome to-”

“I heard your speech, big guy,” James interrupted with a cocky smirk as he pushed his sunglasses up to look at Steve for a brief moment. Strikingly blue eyes practically cut right through Steve before moving away to take in the view of the ranch. The look of contempt on his face was enough to put Steve off his good looks.

Steve’s mouth immediately snapped shut and a small frown was formed. “Uhm…”

James unwrapped both his arms from around the two women and shoved his right out to Steve, “I’m Bucky,” he started, “Well, James… But you can call me Bucky. This is Peggy, and this is Natasha,” he introduced each of the women with a respective tilt of his head, but his eyes never left Steve.

Steve took his hand and gave it a courtesy shake. Before flashing Peggy and Natasha a sweet smile. “It’s nice to meet you, ladies,” he said in the same manner as he had greeted Winnie. Though, he purposely ignored _Bucky’s_ introduction. He could only pray that he wouldn’t have to do any sort of business with him. It was clear that the guy was an arrogant prick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I would like to thank [my beta](garden-of-imagines.tumblr.com) for helping me get my life together. I would be lost without her tbh.  
> Second, [Sigourney Weaver](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/ab/72/50/ab72506225e0d0d41913ce1ff14d5901.jpg) is a beautiful woman, and also a wonderful Winifred Barnes. Thank you, Political Animals, for planting that seed!  
> Also, I don't know why, but an older [Angeline Jolie with blonde hair](http://organic-haircolor.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Angelina-Jolie-Blonde-hair.jpg) is always what I imagine Sarah to look like. Though, probably more of a bobbed haircut as opposed to the long hair in that picture.  
> Our boy's moms are very important so now we have a general look for them ^.^


	3. the heart of the hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter basically picks up right where the last one left off. I've added pictures of some of the horses at the end, because I love all the horses so much, okay.  
> Enjoy!

After Steve introduced Winnie, Bucky, and the girls to his mother, he ducked out, and made his way back to the barn; he slumped against the worn wood, and heaved out a relieved sigh. From what he could tell he’d made a good impression, and he could only hope that he could keep it up. He was used to putting on a fake face to make people like him, but these were much higher stakes. He couldn’t afford to mess anything up, and he knew it. 

Just as he had gotten his bearings and was preparing to start in on some cleaning up, he heard his name being called from outside. Stubbing his toe in the dirt, Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped out the door to look where the voice came from. From across the yard, he could see Gabe, and Morita waving to him from the gate of the front pasture. He raised one hand in acknowledgement and started walking over. 

“Hey, man. I know this isn’t a good time, but one of them fillies looks like she’s,” Morita called out, trailing off and pointing at a little bay filly with white stockings as Steve got closer. “Looks like she’s favorin’ her front right leg a little.” With Steve standing next to him, Morita had to look up to meet Steve’s eyes. Ever since high school Steve had filled out quite a bit. His growth spurt let him over six feet, and later, his long hours working on the ranch left him built like a lineman – yet another reason why he was the greeting face of Eureka Creek. 

Steve brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun as he peered out into the field to watch the young horse walk around, and, in fact, favoring her front right leg. His lips turned up in a grimace, and he waved a hand toward the animal before he spoke. “Can you cut her out and tie her in the barn?” he asked, glancing between the man at his side, and Gabe, who sat atop a big grey gelding. He was met with an uncertain look. 

“I dunno… She’s from Cap’s herd. They’ve been in the back lot for a while now,” Morita mused. 

Nearly 10,000 acres were divided into four separate sections. The first section included the plantation house, the barn, storage buildings, pastures for the fifteen, or so, horses that were kept by the house, as well as the guest houses, and Steve’s own home. The back three were for free grazing. The rest of the Rogers’ stock, all 217 Eureka Creek American Quarter Horses, were rotated through the back pastures throughout the year. When the land wasn’t being used for grazing, people were hired to come and turn what they could into round-bales of hay, which was sold to local farmers for their own stock. It was easy money, considering that grass grew for free, and the horses were a natural fertilizer for the ground. 

The horses divided themselves naturally into smaller herds of around twenty or so individuals. Each herd consisted of a mature stallion, and their mares. At the beginning of spring, Steve and a few of the ranch hands would go out to count and document all the new foals so that they may be registered in the AQHA database. Within the next few months, each new foal would be brought in to have their identification number tattooed on their upper lip. In hopes of keeping aggression down, the younger stallions would be separated from each of the herds, gelded, and brought to be kept near the big house. From there, the spring work began – breaking the selected horses so they could be sold. It was a never-ending stream of work, and it never made situations like this – having to examine a nearly wild horse – any easier. While most of the animals were around people at some point in their life, it was never long enough for them to be properly socialized. 

Steve sighed and brought a hand up to rub at his forehead, knocking the brim of his cowboy hat up off his head. “Uh…” he groaned, “Shit, what if we separate her and keep her in the paddock attached to the barn,” he suggested, giving Morita a hopeful look. He was answered with a quick nod from Morita, and a sharp whistle from Gabe as he urged the horse forward, toward the herd. Pursing his lips together, Steve reached out to pat Morita’s shoulder before he turned around to head back to the barn to make sure the paddock was ready for the yearling. 

As he was walking over, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. When he pulled it out he found a message from his mother, asking him to get the horses ready for a quick ride, Winnie wanted to see some of the ranch today before they settled down for lunch. He reached the doors of the barn just as a groan parted his lips. “Great,” he muttered to himself before slipping the phone back into his pocket. When he looked back up he saw an almost familiar shape standing in front of one of the stalls with smoke rising from his person. 

Part of him wondered if his mind was playing a dirty trick on him. _Oh, haha. He’s so hot, he’s actually smoking._ Steve rolled his eyes at the thought and continued closer before his sense returned to him. A deep frown set on his lips as he stood with his arms crossed, watching the man puff on the cigarette.

“Hey, you can’t smoke in here,” he called out maybe just a little louder than necessary. The quick jump of Bucky’s shoulders was enough put a quickly passing smirk on Steve’s face. He couldn’t help but feel a hint of satisfaction with his reaction. Though, it was short lived. When Bucky turned around to face him he was fixed with the same arrogant look as before. Though, this time there was a half-burnt cigarette hanging between his lips. 

“Says who?” Bucky asked with a quirk of his brow. Reaching up, he took the cigarette from his mouth, and flicked the end so that the ashes fell to the ground. Steve’s eyes followed them as they fluttered down before coming back up to fix the other man with a hard stare. 

“Says me,” Steve said, as if it were obvious. It was, clearly, not enough for Bucky since he placed the thing back between his lips and took an exaggerated drag off it. As he did so, the horse that he had been standing in front of poked its head out over the stall door, and started giving its head short little tosses. “You’re gonna burn the place down,” he said tentatively as he watched the palomino with curious eyes. 

“Eh, it’s probably for the best. Maybe you’ll get a bunch of insurance money.” Bucky plucked the cigarette from his mouth before pulling an overexaggerated look of surprise. At that point, any semblance of a smile had left Steve. 

“You should really work on your manners,” he said bluntly before shifting on his feet. His eyes jumped from Bucky to the horse behind him who was now stretched as far as he could, trying to catch Bucky’s shirt between his teeth. When he realized what Clint, the horse, was trying to do, Steve took a quick step forward and reached out as if he were going to swipe the cigarette from Bucky’s hands. As was expected, he took a step back, right into Clint’s biting range. 

It was a dirty trick, but there was an odd, childish satisfaction in seeing Bucky’s eyes bulge as he jumped away from the animal tugging at his shirt. What was even more satisfying, was the high-pitched shriek that split the air. Steve nearly doubled over in laughter as Bucky spun in tight circles, trying to see the back of his shirt – which had a big green, stretched out bitemark on it. Steve grasped at his stomach as he continued to laugh. Every time he caught a glimpse of Bucky’s face, it made it that much more difficult to stop laughing. 

As soon as Bucky realized that he was in one piece, he had stopped turning in circles, and with reddened cheeks, he stared over at Steve with his arms crossed over his chest. The cigarette was all but forgotten as it laid, stubbed out under the commotion, in the dirt at Bucky’s feet. 

“It’s not funny, asshole,” Bucky spat over Steve’s howling laughter. “That thing could have killed me!”

Red in the face, and teary eyed, Steve waved Bucky off, and pulled his inhaler out of his front pocket. Taking a quick hit from the device, he laughed a little bit more, and then a final puff. “Oh, man,” he started. He took a deep breath and rested a hand on his stomach as he finally got a good look at Bucky. Another quick giggle slipped passed his lips before he was finally able to bury his elation. “You also shouldn’t be in here alone,” he said while wiping the tears away from his eyes with one hand, and tucking his inhaler away with the other. “If you had waited for everyone else to get out here, you woulda been told not to turn your back on Clint. He likes to get ya when you’re not lookin’.” With a final hum, Steve crossed his arms back over his chest and fixed Bucky with a stern look. “Whatta you doin’ out here anyhow?”

Bucky, looking equal parts embarrassed and unimpressed, rolled his eyes at Steve. “If you _must_ know,” he started, “I got _bored._ Finger sandwiches aren’t exactly my thing.”

“So, you just decided to come out here and get under my feet?” Steve asked with one eyebrow raised. 

“Mmm, no?” Bucky rolled his eyes again. With his arms still crossed, he shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “I just wanted a smoke, and there was no one in here, alright? Geez.”

Steve pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered his option. He could either demand, probably hopelessly, that Bucky return to the house with his mother, he could leave him be to get into more trouble, or he could try and enlist his help. So far, option three was the only one that didn’t scream trouble. 

“Alright,” he concluded as he unfolded his arms and stepped forward so he could scrub his hand over the old horse’s nose. “I gotta get a paddock ready for lame filly,” he started, only to be cut off by a confused look from Bucky. “What?”

“That’s so mean!” Bucky exclaimed, looking thoroughly offended. “Why would you call her lame?”

Confusion spread over Steve’s face as he tried to make sense of what Bucky was saying. “What?” he asked again before it hit him. He got out a quick, “Oh!” before he was laughing once more. Though, when he saw the hurt flash across Bucky’s face, he stopped laughing and cleared his throat. “No, I wasn’t… Callin’ her _lame._ It just means she’s hurt. We gotta watch her, make sure she doesn’t hurt herself anymore.” Steve offered a small smile. “You wanna help me?” He asked, pointing in the direction of the paddock. 

“Uhm… Sure… But I don’t wanna get dirty,” he said, arms still crossed over his chest. Though, now there was a hint of excitement in his eyes. What he was excited about, Steve couldn’t say, but it made him want to smile regardless. 

Letting out a chuckle, Steve nodded and started walking through the barn to the opposite side where a large stall opened into the circular paddock outside. “We gotta put straw down in the stall, and make sure there’s hay in the hayrack outside. The grass is still good in the paddock, but it’s the tail end of summer, so it’s startin’ to die off. Plus, it’ll be good for her to get some extra calories. Get her healthy and used to people, she might make us a pretty penny.” Steve could tell he was rambling, but knowing didn’t do a thing to stop him. “She’s one of Cap’s foals… If I’m rememberin’ correctly she’s got a good dame too. She’s got a good head on her, might make a good show horse – a jumper, or –” When he looked over to see an all too amused look on Bucky’s face, Steve pursed his lips as a blush crept over his cheeks. “Right…”

“You’re kinda weird,” Bucky said, eyeing Steve up and down as he walked beside him. “It’s… _Endearing._ ” With a smirk on his lips, he watched as the blush darkened, and fell behind to watch as he undid the stall door. 

“Uhm… So, we need straw. There’s bales of hay and straw in the hayloft.”

“Oh, there’s a hayloft?” Bucky asked excitedly, waggling his eyes brows at Steve when he turned to look at him in horror. 

“You stay out of my hayloft,” he said with wide eyes, trying to ignore the excitement that stirred in the pit of his stomach. The fit of smug giggles that slipped passed Bucky’s lips wasn’t helping at all. Bucky was hot when he wasn’t being an asshole, and he was absolutely breathtaking when he was laughing. As much as he wished it, Steve wasn’t immune to his charm, not by a long shot.

As quick as he could without falling over himself, Steve went over to the wooden ladder, and took it step by step. The fact that he could practically feel Bucky’s eyes on him the entire time made it difficult not to over step the rung and end up with a leg through the ladder. Though, by some miracle, he managed to get to the top without mishap. 

“I’m gonna throw down the straw first. Just take it and spread it out in the stall,” he called down as he peeked over the edge to find Bucky giving him a big, over dramatic thumbs up. He chuckled to himself before standing back up and lifting his hands over his head to take a deep breath. _Get it together, Rogers,_ he scolded himself. Taking another deep breath, he heard some shuffling down below.

“What’s goin’ on up there, grandpa? Did you fall? Can you get up?”

Steve couldn’t help the little snort of a laugh that passed his lips before he called back, “No, I’m fine.” At that, he cleared his throat, and started toward the stacked square bales of straw. Picking one up by the braided cord holding it together, he lifted it easily over his head, and walked it over to drop off the edge. “Watch out!” he called before dropping it. It landed with a heavy thud, and a puff of dust. Turning back around, he grabbed up a bale of hay, and dropped it down as well before climbing back down the ladder. 

On the ground, again, he watched as Bucky walked up to the bale of straw and bent down to pick it up. “Careful,” he warned with a small smile on his face. Though, Bucky was already trying to pick the bale up. 

“Jesus!” he grunted when he got it about a foot off the ground. “What’s in this? Rocks?” Setting the straw back down, he put his hands on his hips and stared down at the bale as if it had insulted him.

Steve chuckled and stepped over to him. He reached out to rest a hand on Bucky’s shoulder before he spoke. “They’re kinda heavy, but you get used to it,” he said kindly, finding that his hand was still on the other man’s shoulder. He quickly retracted it and busied himself with picking up the bale and carrying it over to drop in the stall. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his pocket knife and slit the cords. “Alright, just… Spread this around in here… You can’t really do it wrong, so go nuts,” he said, smiling as he turned to look at Bucky. “I’m gonna go fill the rack outside.”

Leaving Bucky alone in the barn without another word, Steve grabbed up the other bale and packed it out into the paddock where he dropped it next to the metal rack that would house it. He cut the cords and quickly filled the rack. When he was done, he grabbed up the cord, and wound it up so it would fit into his pocket, and went back inside to find Bucky standing in the middle of the stall looking far too pleased with himself. Steve was immediately hit with a warm feeling spreading through his chest. _This is new,_ he thought as he stepped up to lean on the door to the stall. “Looks good, you got the cord?” he asked, holding his hand out. Bucky smiled and nodded before handing over the wadded-up twine. “Okay then… Let’s get outta here so Gabe can bring her in.” Smiling, he slapped his hand on the wooden post he was leaned against, and turned to leave the barn. 

With Bucky on his tail, Steve walked back to Gabe and Morita who were both mounted on their horses trying to separate the filly. Steve leaned against the tall wooden fence, arms crossed on the second rail, foot propped on the bottom, and watched the men work until one of them finally got a lasso around the young animal’s neck. Gabe pulled up on his reins, and looked over to where Steve was standing. Throwing up an ‘OK’ sign with one hand, he waited for Steve to do the same before he too got a lasso around her neck. Roped between the two men and their horses, the little bay filly was led through the gate and over to the designated paddock.

“She’s real pretty, isn’t she?” Steve asked no one in particular, forgetting that there was even anyone else there with him. When Bucky responded the look of surprise on Steve’s face was clear. He was quick to replace the look with a more neutral one. 

“Yeah, she really is… What’s her name?” Bucky, leaning on the fence just as Steve was, looked over at Steve as he waited for his answer. 

Peeking over at Bucky, Steve chuckled and ducked his head again. “She’s got a number, and a registered name, but I don’t know what it is without lookin’ at her papers.” Beside him, Bucky hummed. 

Just as he was about to say something else, probably about the horse, Steve felt his pocket buzzing once again. “Shit,” he muttered as he dug into his pocket for the device. 

_Sarah: Are the horses ready yet?_

“Shit,” he swore again before looking over to Bucky. “I gotta go get the horses ready for the ride. If you go back to the house, Ma might have an extra shirt you can wear… Since yours is all stretched out in the back.” As he was speaking, Bucky looked as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t have time for that right now. Giving him a quick smile, he turned and jogged back to the barn to start prepping the horses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'd like to thank [my beta.](garden-of-imagines.tumblr.com) She keeps me in line, and I honesty don't know what I'd do without her.  
> It's been brought to my attention that "get under my feet" isn't a common phrase in all parts of this wide world. So, for those of you who don't know, it essentially means "you're in my way."
> 
> Now, I started looking for a few horse pictures, and then I got carried away with it all, so I have some other reference pictures for you as well!  
> [The little bay filly](http://i.imgur.com/RQaJoNr.jpg)  
> [Clint, the horse ;) ;)](http://valleyviewranch.net/Nugget%20and%20Seanna-%20%20barn%20side%20R.jpg) He just looks mischievous, doesn't he  
> [ Gabe's horse](http://img.equinenow.com/slir/w600/equine/data/photos/432165_2.jpg%3F1432151936)  
> [Morita's horse,](http://www.heartlandroping.com/images/CatilinaKid-Jan2012.jpg) which I only mentioned once, but I love all horses, so why not?  
> [Steve's cabin](http://i.imgur.com/STRnBUg.jpg)  
> [The Plantation House](http://i.imgur.com/YernlMe.jpg)  
> [This](http://i.imgur.com/roFtjhC.jpg) is probably what the guest houses, including Sam's, look like.  
> [This](https://31.media.tumblr.com/34da232cfc6a75dc40f023ff62827452/tumblr_inline_njl0kbgjFg1ruiga1.gif) is the general Steve look for this fic, and then [this](http://www.thefashionisto.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/Sebastian-Stan-001.jpg) is what I'm imagining for Bucky. Just think small, with sharp edges.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I can't wait to start on the next one! Kudos/Comments are always welcome! They honestly fuel me in a way that's probably unhealthy.


	4. Cut to the Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, so it's been so long since I've updated and I am so sorry! I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it!

Taking long strides back to the barn, Steve tried to ignore the burning feeling of eyes on his back. Bucky and his family hadn’t been on the property for more than two hours, and Steve could already feel the bad ideas sprouting in his mind. The voice in the back of his head told him to turn around and invite Bucky to help him. Though the rational part kept him walking forward. He couldn’t mess this up. The Barnes family was the only way the ranch would be safe from foreclosure. As much as he hated to admit it, he had to keep his behavior professional.

No matter how much those steely grey eyes made butterflies erupt in his stomach.

_Keep it together, Rogers,_ he scolded himself as he stepped into the cool shade of the barn. Despite the few minutes of interaction between them, Steve knew he needed to put some space between them or else he was going to do something monumentally stupid. He just hoped he could do that without hurting Bucky’s feelings, making him label Eureka Creek a “bad investment.”

Inside the barn, Steve pulled the first horse from its stall and tied it between the two docking posts. Silently, he grabbed the brush from the bucket that housed it, and began to brush it down. When he was satisfied, he dropped the brush back in the bucket and went to the tack room to grab the tack that was fitted for the horse. As if it were light as a feather, Steve hoisted the western equipment over his shoulder, and packed it back to the horse. When he approached, the animal threw its head, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the animal. 

“I know, bud. I don’t wanna go out today either.”

Still smiling, he ran his hand over the thick white blaze that ran the length of the horse’s face, and turned back to grab the saddle pad and blanket. Once they were in place, he mounted the saddle on the animal’s back, and tightened the necessary buckles so that it was a comfortable, and safe fit. Reaching up again, he ran a calloused hand over the horse’s cheek, and undid the buckle on the nose of the halter, leaving the halter loose around his neck. Grabbing up the bridle, Steve coaxed the bit into the horse’s mouth, and slipped the headstall over its ears. Once it was in place, and the animal had adjusted the metal piece to its mouth, Steve tightened the buckles, and untied the halter. Once he was finished, he led the horse out to the tying post in front of the watering trough, and tied the reins in a loose knot before going back to the barn to repeat the process.

In the time he was given, Steve was able to get five of the seven horses needed ready for their ride before the women, and Bucky, were standing in the doorway waiting for him. At first, he didn’t notice they were all there. Though when he did, the casual whistling he hadn’t even realized he’d started, faltered into the sad tail end of a tune. Natasha and Peggy stood on either side of Bucky – who was now wearing a shirt that Steve could positively identify as his own – and the three of them giggled to each other as if they were sharing some secret about him. Immediately his face turned the same shade of red as the paint covering the barn, and he was suddenly fumbling over a task he had been doing since he was able to walk. He managed to nervously fumble through the dressing of one more horse before Rebecca stepped in to help him.

When she approached him, she gave him a sympathetic smile, and patted his arm. “You don’t have to be nervous, Steve. This isn’t going to be a make-it or break-it kind of meeting. She’s just getting a feel for the place… Calm down.”

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Steve nodded and took a breath. “Yeah, I know. I don’t know why I’m so nervous all of a sudden,” he lied smoothly. He did, in fact, know why he was so nervous, and it had everything to do with the pair of eyes that hadn’t left him since the group had entered the barn, and how damned good he looked in his shirt. He didn’t want to get involved, but he still didn’t want him, or any of them for that matter, thinking he was inept. 

Clearing his throat, he shot Rebecca a quick smile, and they proceeded to dress the remaining horses together. When they finished, Rebecca led the last horse – a big dusty buckskin gelding that Steve doted on whenever he could – to the post and tied it alongside the others.

“Alright,” he called out over the murmuring that had blossomed among the waiting group. At the sound of his voice they all turned to him. Sarah gave him a big smile, and a secret thumbs up. Seeing it, Steve felt his cheeks light up once again, and smiled back to her. “So, just a few quick things before we get going. All the horses on this ranch were born and bred here. Most of them were born wild, and brought in for their safety, or their tempers. My men and I broke every single one of them, so they might snort and stomp, but they wouldn’t hurt a fly. That being said, they love what they do, but they love to run more. When we get to the back half of the property some of the younger ones might act up, but just keep a strong hand on the reins, and don’t panic,” the same speech he’d given hundreds of vacationers before this. He went on to explain the commands that each of the animals knew, and which parts of the property they’d go through on their ride. Before he dismissed the group, he asked Rebecca to fetch the canteens from the tack room. While he waited, he asked if there were any questions. Of course, Bucky’s hand shot up.

“What if we have to go to the bathroom?” he asked before he was called on. Natasha and Peggy erupted into a fit of giggles beside him. Steve took a deep breath and shook his head. 

“Hold it, or find a hornet’s nest,” he joked. The two women continued to giggle while Bucky laughed along mockingly. Before anyone else could ask a question, Rebecca returned with the seven canteens and handed on to everyone. “Alright, there’s a spicket outside, you’ll wanna fill up your canteens before we get going,”

he announced as he walked through the group and into the sunlight outside. “Uhm, are these things clean? Cause they look a little… _not,_ ” a voice pipped up from the back. Steve turned to see the voice was coming from Natasha. He simply offered a smile and nodded. In reality, he couldn’t vouch for their cleanliness. Sure, they were washed, but how long had they sat in the tack room? He had no clue. 

As everyone finished filling their canteens, Steve grabbed the stepstool from beside the water trough, and sat it next to the horse on the end. “Who wants to go first?” he asked only to be met with blank stares. After a moment of nervous shuffling, mostly coming from Bucky and the girls, Winnie broke into a smile and stepped forward as if she were stepping onto the stage of a pageant. 

“I guess I’ll go first. What’s this big guy’s name?” she asked as she approached the big bay horse.

“Her name is Daisy, and she’s got a mind of her own. You up for it?” Steve said with a cocked eyebrow. Winnie laughed and reached out to place a hand on his chest. 

“Honey, I’m from Texas. I know how to ride a horse.”

Steve’s brows shot up in surprise, but it quickly faded into a wide smile. Perhaps she was his people after all. “Alrighty then. Would you like help up?” he asked gesturing to the step stool.

“I said I know how to ride, but that doesn’t mean my knees make it easy on me,” she quipped. Steve chuckled and stepped over to help her. When she was mounted, he picked up the stool, and untied the reins from the post. Handing them to her, he pointed to a big shade tree a few yards away. 

“If you wanna wait over there, we’ll be on our wait in just a moment.”

With the animal out of the way, Steve put the stool back on the dusty ground, and turned back to the group.

“Who’s next?” He eyed the remaining newcomers, hoping one of them would volunteer. Unfortunately, they all seemed to be avoiding eye contact – as if if they couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see them. Steve sighed, and shifted on his feet. “Alright, let’s get you up here Peggy. Ovi’s a good old man. Ain’t never hurt a fly, c’mon.” He quirked his lips playfully, and motioned for her to come over. After she was mounted, Natasha was quick to follow, leaving only Bucky standing in the dirt alone. 

“Your turn, c’mon. We’re runnin’ out of daylight,” he said in a tone that indicated he was losing his patience – a lie. Bucky shot him a look that said he was not at all amused by the situation he found himself in. 

“Fine. But I’m only doing this so you don’t murder my entire family,” he cracked, causing Steve to snort out a short laugh. 

As Bucky stepped up and got one foot in the stirrup, the horse shifted just enough to cause him to lose his balance. The stool that wobbled under his foot fell sideways, scaring the animal just enough to make it skitter to the side, away from Bucky’s body, sending his falling backwards onto his ass. While it all seemed to happen in slow motion as Steve watched it unfold, he was helpless in it all. All he could do was watch, and on one hand, hope Bucky wasn’t hurt, and on the other, try not to laugh. 

When the dust had settled, Steve knelt quickly to check Bucky for any obvious wounds – protruding bones, cracked skull, etc. He was met with an angry Bucky who was in no mood to be baby’d. 

“Just get away from me. I’m fine… Laugh at someone else,” he snapped. 

Taken aback, Steve stood and stepped back without a word, and went to settle the spooked animal. Bucky picked himself up, and dusted himself off. Picking up the stool from where it had fallen, he thumped it down on the ground by the horse, and climbed up again. This time, successfully getting his leg over the horse’s back. He sat atop the horse in silence, waiting for the reins to be handed to him. Steve stared up at him, partially in disbelief, partially in awe, before he snapped back to reality and quickly untied the animal, and handed the reins off. 

With the last of the tour group mounted, Steve, Rebecca, and Sarah mounted seamlessly on their regular mounts. Turning his horse – officially named Daddy’s Dollar, unofficially named Wilson – toward the group, he urged him forward.

“Alright, we’re going to head out now. Ma is gonna lead us, and I’m gonna hold us together in the back. If you have any questions, just raise a hand and Bex or I will come find ya.” Smiling wide, he looked back to his mother, and gave her a nod. 

As they began to ride, everyone was a little rough. Though, as they continued, everyone seemed to fall into a comfortable pace. For the most part, the horses guided themselves. They knew the trails, and they knew what was being asked of them, and if they were being led by someone who knew what they were doing, they’d likely just follow along. 

After a few minutes, Rebecca fell back to ride beside Steve. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “Miss me?” Smirking, he adjusted his hat on his head. 

“Oh you know it,” she teased. “Just comin’ to see how you’re doin’.”

Steve shrugged, “I guess I’m alright… Still kinda nervous about the whole thing, but I think she’s having a good time. I just hope Bucky doesn’t tell her it’s a shitshow cause he’s pissed he fell tryin’ to get on the horse.”

Rebecca snorted. “I know my brother, and I knew he doesn’t get embarrassed so easily. You don’t get as far as he has by bein’ shy,” she chuckled, and shifted in her seat. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s a dancer, and a model… But like… naked.” Rebecca laughed when Steve sputtered out a sound that could only be labeled as surprise. 

“Like a stripper?” Steve asked with bugged out eyes. 

“Yeah, I mean… I guess? He doesn’t really like to be called a stripper, but it is basically what he does. He’s really good though. He’s got his own show in LA. That’s how he met Nat and Peggy. Peggy was a photographer on a photoshoot that he did with Natasha.”

“I had no idea… I could see it, I guess,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Yeah, Nat and Peggy started dating like… right after that photoshoot, and they’ve been together ever since. They kind of adopted Bucky into their relationship too. I don’t really know exactly what goes on with them, but they are all really close and he sends me a lot of snapchats of all of them together. I think it’s more of a really close third-wheel, but I don’t know. I try not to be involved in my brother’s sex life,” she chuckled and peeked over to see a scandalized Steve. “Things are a lot more laissez faire in LA.”

“I guess…” Steve said, trying desperately (and failing) not to think about Bucky being a stripper.

As they road down the shaded trail, they skirted the outer edge of the valley that Steve’s home was nestled in, and across to the other side. Coming back down the other side, they dipped in and out of the dappling sunlight until they came to a clearing in the thicket. The ground was covered in a thick moss with a single dirt game trail leading through to the other side. On one side, an old bench sat with ivy growing up the legs, on the other side of the gently sloping clearing was a small stream that ran clean and clear from the river on the other side of the ranch. 

In truth, this was one of Steve’s favorite spots, and he hated bringing strangers here. They could never appreciate the precious moments that had come to be in this clearing. Perhaps that’s why it was always on the “we have to impress these people” tour. The area had a mystical feeling that hung heavy in the air, and it never failed to impress the people that passed through it. 

The Barnes were no exception. 

Winnie looked around the kept area in awe. The same kind of awe that seemed to be shared by the rest of her party. Natasha and Peggy each looked around the area before they found each other’s gaze and shared a gentle smile between them. Upon seeing their shared moment, Steve almost felt as if he were peering into something too personal for him to be experiencing. His eyes quickly hopped to Bucky as he was taking in his clearing. Every part of him told him to look away, to focus on something else entirely, but it was easier said than done. Bucky, in a normal situation, was a sight to behold. But Bucky when he was at a loss for words, and nearly lost in the awe around him was completely breathtaking. 

Steve found himself, once again, fighting the butterflies that threatened to break free from their cage. _It doesn’t matter how damned pretty he is. This is a business deal. You know what, just don’t even look at him,_ he scolded himself. Dropping the dopey grin that had spread over his face, he pursed his lips and pulled up on the reins. 

“We’re gonna take a quick break here,” he announced as he led Wilson over to the stream. 

“Thank _God,_ ” Natasha called out. “That damned saddle is chafing my legs like crazy!”

Peggy and Winnie called out in agreement, and each of them, along with a silent Bucky, led their horses carefully over to the stream. With no other space left, Bucky led the big black gelding over to drink next to Steve. When Steve lifted his eyes to offer a friendly smile, he was expecting to find Bucky already looking over at him considering he had yet to miss an opportunity to gawk. Yet, what he was met with was the awkward feeling that Bucky was going out of his way to avoid his gaze. Was he really mad about falling? _I didn’t even laugh,_ he thought, drawing his brows together as he tried to puzzle through the situation. Steve dropped his gaze, and pursed his lips, trying to not think too hard on it. 

When the horse had finished drinking, Steve gave its neck a pat, and backed him up so that he could be led over to the bench. Looping the reins over the saddle horn, Steve plopped down on the ivy-ridden bench, and stretched out, waiting for the group to get ready to go. Although he tried to avoid direct eye contact with any of the others, he couldn’t help but notice that Bucky was clearly avoiding him. Especially considering the attention he had previously been given, the fact that he was able to sit alone now was a clear indication that something was wrong. _You should be thanking God. Now you won’t have to worry about how your feelings would affect the deal. He’s clearly uninterested,_ he told himself. 

After a few minutes had passed, Steve pushed himself off the bench with a tired sigh, and got back up onto his horse. Without having to say anything, the others began to follow suit. With tired expressions, the group followed Sarah out of the clearing, and back into the afternoon sun for the last part of their tour of the ranch. 

When their ride finally came to an end, it was nearly four in the afternoon, and it was clear that everyone was exhausted, including the horses. At the barn, Steve dismounted, and tied his horse, and began helping the others to tie theirs as well. 

“We’ve got fresh lemonade in the parlor,” Sarah called out as she began the march to the big house. Without much more than an appreciative murmur everyone except Steve followed Sarah to the house with Rebecca falling to the back. 

“You comin’ in?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m gonna brush the horses down and put them up… I’ve got some other work to get done too… Plus I think I’ve dulled the mood enough for today.” Giving a halfhearted smile, Steve waved her off, and went back to tend to the horses. After all, if he managed to piss Bucky off by keeping his mouth shut, what were the chances he could come out of an actual conversation after that alive?


End file.
